


Expectations

by Nature_Nymph



Series: Parenthood [2]
Category: Berserk
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nature_Nymph/pseuds/Nature_Nymph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guts is again flooded with memories of the past - this time, of a past that ended too early.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expectations

The group was a little ways away from the coastline after their evening of rest and calamity, stopping at a small farming outpost to replenish some of their supplies. They couldn’t stop for long, since Serpico had predicted that they could get to the port city of Vritannis by midday if they pressed hard enough, and Guts wasn’t up for dealing within any foreign, ocean critters for a while. Isidro had already gathered his things and darted down the dirt road, his elf companion Puck holding onto him by a thread; Schierke was more steadily keeping up with Evarella in order to watch and scold the redhead when necessary. Knowing that Isidro was not going to take her pecking sitting down, Serpico made sure follow behind them. 

Before Guts proceeded to follow the three, he noticed that Casca and Farnese were not in sight.  _Where are they?_ During these last few weeks, Guts’ trust in these fellows was put to the test, but he was surprised that they were actually passing his expectations, especially Farnese. Still, after what happened in Enoch Village and the Spirit Tree, Guts felt more comfortable when the two were somewhere in his line of vision.

They weren’t too far behind him, the two women sitting on a log on the side of the dirt road. As Guts approached them, he could see that Farnese was attempting to coax Casca up from her seated position, but to no avail.

“What’s wrong, Casca?” Farnese questioned, not expecting a full, logical response from the insane woman, but of some hint of a need or demand in her demeanor. Casca only whimpered, her eyes blank and downcast as if in mourning.

Casca had not been acting as her usual self for a few hours, not since meeting that strange little boy last night. At first, she was acting very vigilant and lively around the boy, displaying the most mature behavior that Guts had seen in these last two years of her madness. But ever since the waif disappeared, Casca had been acting quite melancholic and detached, as if she lost something that was a part of her. It was too great of a reminder of what had happened two years ago outside of Godo’s house on the hill. Guts remembered how the freshly insane Casca stood limp in his arm after the remnant of their deformed offspring disappeared. He could feel it, how much more broken she became at that moment. So demotivated Casca became that Guts would have carried her back to the elf mine had he had full function of his partially severed forearm.

“She just needs to be preoccupied more,” Guts suggested. “Let’s keep walking.” It was the only solution that he could think of for her in this state. The other one was sleeping, as he remembered how Erika had to soothe and coo Casca to sleep to quell her crying; even in sleep came great distress for Casca, with those first nights after the eclipse being full of nightmares and terrors. But they couldn’t afford to take any prolonged rests in this territory, not with those monsters lurking. Eating wouldn’t help Casca much either, recalling how she would deprive herself of food for days, only to binge for one day in great amounts but to purge herself of it later from imbalance. Guts would rather not relive those dreadful four weeks again if he could prevent it.

A look of uncertainty remained on Farnese’s face as she looked from Guts to Casca, who was not even responsive in the presence of the black-clad swordsman. But she felt a heavy weight on her shoulder that was Guts’ hand, who was looking down at her with a somber but encouraging façade.

“Just comfort her like you always do. Casca trusts you… She’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Farnese looked much more confident after having Guts tell her this, and she began to gently guide the static Casca up from the log, hooking her arm with Casca’s. She maintained close physical contact with her, rubbing Casca’s back and telling her that it would be alright. Standing by and watching the ex-Holy See soldier work, Guts couldn’t help but feel quite proud of Farnese, grateful even.

“Didn’t think that she was so good with…”

 _Kids_? Had it really gotten to that point where Guts was thinking of Casca as a small child in need of supervision? It shamed Guts to see Casca this way, but whenever he wanted to see Casca as something more in this present day form of hers, the vices in his head always beckoned him to use her to get to  _him_.

_“Rip her to shreds… You’ll get closer to Griffith…. You desire this… TAKE HER.”_

Guts tensed at the wicked voice playing in his head. Even when he had enough willpower to stave off the Beast’s influence, he tried not to think about that,  _anything_ but that…

Kids.

Kids…

His mind drew back to the events last night, before the child disappeared. He was thinking about it even then, how he and Casca almost had a kid of their own, wasn’t he? It was so weird for Guts to fathom, for he and Casca to have made an entire human being. He had much more experience with taking lives than making them.

He wondered how it would have been. Would he have gone down that same path as Gambino? Would he have taught his son the way of the warrior, the sword?

Would Guts had become Gambino himself?

They said that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, even though he and Gambino had no blood relation.

His reputation for being the dreaded one-hundred man slayer didn’t pass Guts: he once embraced it, accepting the viciousness of the title as the most flattering compliment that a merc such as himself could receive. Of course, he didn’t really care about the glory in the end.

Gambino was also well known among mercenaries as being fearless and fearsome, but Guts knew from personal experience that Gambino showed his malice in other ways besides swordplay and battle tactics…

Guts learned his swordsmanship from Gambino; would Guts have developed his savagery toward children as well? There were a lot of things about himself that Guts became more distrustful of, this included.

But then he remembered Casca, his Casca, telling him something years back, during their final operation as Hawks…

Their small party had sought haven with that farming family for a night. Judeau and Casca were given word of Hawk supporters in the countryside that they passed through and were happy to have found that the rumors were true. It was a big family: the farmer and his wife, her sister, and their children combined.

The family was especially kind for supplying them with fresh bandages for Griffith and a comfortable bed for him to sleep in. The rest of the team opted for various spots around the hearth in the main room, being provided blankets and pillows for the night. They needed to get as much sleep as possible, since there was no telling when they had to be on the move again.

The children of the family, on the other hand, had other plans. Hearing that the famed Band of the Hawk was in their quaint household roused its members further into the evening.

The smaller children clambered up Pippin’s massive body, to which Pippin sat calmly and undisturbed; Judeau showed no hesitation with entertaining his group with some knife tricks; Casca was preoccupied with the whimsy of two teenaged girls, who were rapidly asking her question after question about being a warrioress among men (and how she looked so beautiful while doing so).

Looking at his comrades being swarmed by the small fry made Guts thankful that they were keeping their distance. While they were busy keeping the little buggers at bay, he could get some shut eye…

Guts was only allowed to close his eyes in respite for a few moments before he heard the pitter-patter of feet approach him. He opened his eyes to see a young lad no more than five standing in front of him. The boy stared down at him for moments, not breaking eye contact even when Guts raised an eyebrow at him, a look of displeasure slowly appearing on his face. Then the boy spoke.

_“My name is Richard.”_

_“Um, hi… Richard,”_ Guts forced out of his mouth slowly. Did people normally introduce themselves so, abruptly?

_“What’s your name?”_

Guts wasn’t sure how to answer that, since he typically didn’t give out his name to every person he met on assignments or on the road. But he didn’t see the harm in giving it to a five year old.

_“… Guts.”_

_“That’s a funny name,”_ the boy admitted.  _Little runt,_ Guts scowled inwardly, but stopped when he saw that the boy was giggling out of flattery rather than maliciousness.

 _“Um, right,”_ Guts responded, glancing to the side when the boy suddenly began to reach out for his massive broadsword that was resting against the wall.

_“Is this your sword?”_

_“DON’T TOUCH IT!”_ Guts yelled, grabbing the sword from the boy’s hands. For a second, the room was dead silent, everyone stopping what they were doing as to turn and stare at Guts. He mostly received blank stares from the occupants of the room, but one set of eyes had a particularly nasty gleam in them, her dark opals staring him down. He blinked, turning his head only to see the young lad’s eyes filling with tears, his face growing red as he sniffled to keep the tears in.

 _Aw shit,_ Guts lamented in his head. Casca continued glaring at him, looking more dangerous as the seconds passed. Guts quickly deduced that Casca was ordering him to clean up his mess -  _or else_.

 _“Hey, hey. I’m sorry,”_ Guts attempted to apologize, but the little boy was hardly responding to him as he was too busy wiping his tears. Guts spoke up again, this time sincerity laced in his voice.  _“I’m sorry, Richard._

The boys soft crying hushed, peeking his eyes from over his balled fists.

_“This sword is very dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.”_

_“Really?”_ peeped Richard.

 _“Really,”_ Guts said. He curved his lip.  _“Besides, this sword is only used to hurt bad men, and you ain’t a bad man.”_

_“What kind of bad men?”_

_“The kind of bad men who try to hurt my friends - and the ones who are just stupid enough to mess with me.”_

Guts would have sworn that he had heard a scoff coming from Casca’s direction, but he was suddenly ingrained in how the boy was laughing at his words, his tears drying and leaving crisp trails of salty crust on his cheeks. It was so strange how children could be so forgiving…

 _“Alright. Alright. Time for bed,”_ the mother swooped in and scooped the young boy up into her arms, despite his complaints.

 _“Aww! Can I stay up five more minutes? Pleeeeease??”_ The boy was becoming visibly sleepy with his eyelids drooping and his yawns increasing.

_“No, young one. The Hawks need their rest. Now say goodnight.”_

The young boy peaked over his mother’s shoulder, giving Guts the biggest grin that he could muster.  _“Goodnight, Mr. Guts!”_ The boy began to wave at him profusely with his little hands, expecting something in return from the swordsman.

Confused with the gesture, Guts gave a small wave back, his smile unsure as the boy continued to smile sleepily at him as he was carted off to another room for the night. Once the children had cleared out, there was a collective sigh of relief from the remaining Hawks. Guts leaned his head against the wall, exhausted from his little misadventure.

 _“It seems someone has taken a liking to you.”_ Casca sat down next to him after the teenaged girl and her sister excused themselves to bed on their mother’s request. No longer were her eyes filled with promises of pain and disciplinary actions for upsetting the child, but pride that he handled the situation well.

 _“I don’t know why,”_ Guts responded brusquely.  _“I ain’t good with kids.”_ Why would any of them be? They were mercenaries, not babysitters. Alright, so Judeau seemed pretty decent with kids, since he was a circus performer for a time. And Pippin was the most patient of the Hawks, so he could handle kids like Rickert all the time. Casca - well, she was a woman so he guessed that she had to be fond of kids at some point or another.

_Guess that just leaves me._

Casca shrugged.  _“It takes some getting use to. Besides, kids can tell if you’re a good person or not. It’s like a sixth sense for them.”_ She herself knew from experience, remembering how she knew that the noble who bought her services was buying her for more than just cleaning and cooking.

Guts gave a little scowl.  _“Not so sure that I agree with your theory.”_ If kids were really that sensitive about adults, then he must have been seriously programmed wrong in his childhood. Maybe he knew that Gambino was bad news all along, but Guts just didn’t want to admit to himself, clinging to the idea of being seen as an equal to Gambino, as a proud warrior training under him, as his son.

Casca sensed where Guts’ doubt was coming from, so she tried to shift the topic in a more positive direction.  _“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re really not_ that  _imposing to be around at times.”_ Guts didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult to his character.  _“You may not think this, but people know that they can depend on you. You may be colorful at times, but everyone thinks it.”_

 _“Not sure why you would say that after everything that has already happened,”_ Guts said on edge. Yes, Guts remembered how he “proved” himself to Griffith on his first mission with the Hawks. He didn’t understand why Griffith thought of him dependable back then and he sure as hell didn’t know why the Hawks trusted him so much now. It’s not that he didn’t want the Hawks to trust him, but did he even deserve their trust after he had left them?

 _“The important thing is that you came back,”_ Casca said to reinforce her stance, knowing what Guts had been referring to.  _“And, I think you can relate to kids. I mean, I believe you can understand some kids who have been in the same situation as you have. They know that you won’t hurt them like the adults around them.”_

Guts snorted, playfully though.  _“Since when did you become an expert on kids? Weren’t you the youngest in your family?”_ Casca shrugged again, not particularly disagreeing with him. Guts narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his mate when a realization hit him.  _“You seem almost - interested.”_

Casca could feel the heat rise in her cheeks, but before they could erupted into a red blush, she controlled herself as she usually did by calming her nerves from within. 

 _“Well, it’s pretty hard not to be, since I already have to look over fifty of you” -_ Casca poked Guts square in the chest - “you  _especially.”_

_“ME?!”_

Casca began staring up at the ceiling as she began to count with her fingers. _“You have tantrums, always get into trouble, I have to scold you often… Very childlike.”_

_“What!? No I don’t!!”_

_“Yes. I think you have_ a lot  _in common with children.”_

_“Shut up!!”_

She couldn’t help it: Casca had to laugh at how Guts was just further proving her point, seeing how flustered he was becoming at being compared to a five year old like the one he was just interacting with earlier. She didn’t do it to belittle him: she actually thought it was adorable how he acted around children and how he acted himself (that is, when he wasn’t either yelling at them or putting himself in mortal danger). She truly believed every word that she had told Guts, and she hoped that he would understand very soon.

After a moment, Casca quelled her laughter, and gave Guts a sincere smile, lying her head tenderly on his shoulder as she spoke softly so that the others wouldn’t hear.  _“… I think you’d make a good father.”_

Guts was suddenly back in the present, watching over his menagerie from behind everyone. Schierke and Isidro, along with the two elves, were way ahead of the bunch, with Serpico trying to keep up with them to mediate the pair when necessary. Casca, her present-day shade, was close to Farnese as usual. Her temperament was returning back to “normal”, shifting glances between herself and Guts, glowering at him periodically when they happened to make eye contact.

For just that moment, Guts didn’t want to picture Casca as the woman in front of, the woman who was mentally gone, who hated and feared him. With the Beast in a place where it couldn’t tempt him further, Guts tried to visualize how _his_ Casca would look like now: her brown hair was managed to her liking, but maybe a few inches past her neck. Her light armor and leather tunic were orderly and clean with her ritualistic care, and her shortsword slung from her hip. Instead of clinging to Farnese for security, Casca was just chatting with her as women did, glancing back at Guts to give him coquettish smiles, making his heart thump with nervousness instead of pain.

Last night, he and Casca were back in that house belonging to that huge family, filled with kids generations younger than they were, only they were in the form of Serpico, Farnese, Isidro and Schierke. The little boy was still there, too. Guts imagined how their son would have fit in, since he would have been around the same age as the boy, after all. He would have been doing the same thing that the boy had been doing: curiously - and precariously - investigating Guts, landing himself into trouble that he and Casca had to save him from. Instead of growling at Guts for his heroic endeavor, Casca congratulated him, whispering just between them, “You do make a good father.”

The fantasy started to unravel at that moment though, at Casca’s haunting words. Was she aware that she might have been expecting, or that she wanted to be? Why had she not told him sooner? Was she afraid to tell him? From the way that she had been talking that night, it didn’t seem that way. She was looking forward to the possibility of starting a family with him once they were on their way to starting a life away from the Hawks.

But for all of Casca’s optimism, Guts couldn’t agree with her sentiments wholeheartedly.

After all, he had failed to prevent that family from falling victim to Wyald the next day.

And, he had failed to save Casca from Griffith, and in so doing, failed to save their child.

No wonder he tried not to think about fatherhood: every father he had failed him in some way, and Guts wouldn’t have done much of a good job himself. Never mind being a selfish bastard like Gambino was - how could someone possibly take care of their own kid if they couldn’t take care of the people around them?

Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. He was a mercenary, a swordsman, not a parent.

Guts was disrupted with the voices of Isidro and Schierke, bickering as usual. He heard shouts of “stupid girl” and Schierke’s brief rants meant to demean Isidro in response. The elves certainly weren’t helping - actually instigating the feud more - and Serpico was failing to settle the quarreling pair.

 _Kids,_ Guts said in his head, rolling his eye.  _Snotty, nosy, loud, obnoxious runts._

All that was true, but he knew better than to hate them, even if he couldn’t take care of them as a parent would. To them, he was probably the only person in the world who understood them right now: and they were probably correct on their assumption.

Seeing that Casca and Farnese were taken care of, Guts knew what he had to do.


End file.
